A Rainy Sunday Afternoon
by Catmoongirl
Summary: AN: This is NOT a oneshot. It's been nearly two years since Edward disappeared beyond the Gate. Dante's vengance stretches through time, even beyond death. Roy suffers with feelings of inadequacy and Al continues to search for his long lost brother.
1. Chapter 1: In the Eyes of the Monster

**A Rainy Sunday Afternoon**

"Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon." - Susan Ertz

A/N: As you can tell, this story is not a romantic one-shot, though I can see how it might be mistaken for such judging by the title. First off, this is a slightly yaoi story, and it is an Ed/Envy pairing, but it also contains other pairings such as Roy/Riza. Plus a few surprise characters make an apperance. This story takes place in the place of the movie, and not before it. It is a sort of alternate ending to the series, though some events from the movie and the manga ties in, but it is usually only characters. References are made to the anime and the lines are verbatim from the show, however, I alternate between the dub and the sub, depending on which one gets the point across more accurately. I never mix and match the sub and dub in the flashbacks. Much of the characters reactions, thoughts, and emotions are written with creative license from the flashbacks, so please don't kill me if you think I'm wrong. I do hope you enjoy this story, because I really enjoyed writing it. Reviews are greatly appreciated and are very much encouraged. I could use as much feedback as possible.

Copyright Notice: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of it's characters or merchandise. Fullmetal Alchemist is copyrighted by Hiromu Arakawa, FuNimation, Square Enix, bones, and the rest of it's sponsors and supporters.

* * *

Chapter 1 - In the Eyes of the Monster

"We must all suffer from one of  
two pains: the pain of discipline  
or the pain of regret.  
The difference is discipline  
weighs ounces while regret weighs tons."

- Jim Rohn

With a large yawn, Envy glanced down at the small alchemist, nestling himself against the homunculus' exposed torso with a faint murmur before he stilled and continued to slumber. He truly was exhausted; Ed had been particularly zealous tonight. The boy had run him ragged; tempting him and pushing his desires beyond their breaking point, making him want Ed more than he had the energy to do so. He'd made love to the homunculus with more passion and ardent vigor than he ever had before, which surprised the both of them. Ed hadn't been very animated as of late. He would walk around the modest and weary house they had lived in together for months in a lethargic manner, only speaking when spoken to and only when a reply was needed. He only responded in succinct sentences solely when a grunted or murmured "yes" or "no" would not suffice. At first, Envy suspected the young alchemist was merely ill and had not made any mention of it out of politeness.

In the back of his mind, Envy had a sneaking suspicion perhaps Ed was simply averse in disclosing personal problems to him, though he soon learned this to be untrue. While Ed was especially introverted and reserved since returning to Amestris with the wounded homunculus in tow, Envy knew that Ed was a dead giveaway about his feelings when one learned to distinguish between what he said with his voice and what he said with his eyes.

Anger was not a very subtle emotion for Edward, but his reasons for irritation were frequently discreet. One look at his eyes and it was effortless to perceive whether it was a matter of touching on a sensitive nerve in the alchemist's ego, wounded pride, or an issue of violated morals that aggravated Ed's already touchy temper.

However, all other emotional reactions seemed to be a foreign and unfamiliar concept for Edward. His happiness seemed to be constantly restrained, never letting on to his lover just how pleased he was with their complicated lifestyle. Sadness was something that didn't seem to exist in Edward's mind, at least in the view of others, though Envy had felt warm tears dripping slowly onto his arm in the middle of a cold and disheartening night to know that the former State Alchemist was, indeed, a human being.

Yes, that's right…Ed was a human being, a creature with a mind, feelings, emotions,…and a soul, something Envy was told that he, as a homunculus, still lacked. Envy frequently wondered from time to time if Ed had failed to remember that detail or if he merely didn't care anymore.

"I've finally learned the truth about Equivalent Exchange," Edward had conveyed to him as he tended to Envy shortly after returning from beyond the Gate. "To say that you don't matter would be the same as saying Al or I don't matter. I have no arm or leg and Al was only a soul, but we're still human nonetheless. Even if I were to try my hardest and get nothing in return, what someone is lacking is irrelevant. Soul or not, you're here, breathing, living, seeing, speaking…Who am I to decide if you are human or not?"

Envy broke out of his introspective reverie when he felt his lover stir beside him again. The homunculus looked down to observe the boy cuddle closer to him, his flesh-and-blood arm resting lightly across his chest; the warmth emanating from it was quiet a pleasant sensation. A moment later, his eyes leisurely fluttered open and he let out a yawn. He looked up, his golden eyes hazy with weariness. "You're still awake?" he questioned, his mouth slurring his words slightly in fatigue.

"Just barely," Envy replied, a drowsy smile just scarcely lifting the corners of his mouth, his muscles almost too tired to comply with his emotions. His eyes were already drifting shut and the dim flickering of the candle flame from the nightstand made it more difficult to discern Edward's features in the dark room. He cursed the fact that it was a new moon tonight and that its silvery beams were absent from aiding his vision. It was a disappointing thing, too, for Ed was truly beautiful tonight. "I thought you would have slept all night and into tomorrow afternoon. Is something wrong?" He inquired as he reached up and lazily stroked the soft locks of gold.

He could barely make out his lovers frown before he ducked his head into the crook of Envy's neck, his nose sweetly nuzzling the skin. "Just a dream, nothing out of the ordinary," he answered simply, although the tone in his voice told Envy it irrefutably was something unordinary.

With a gentle sigh, Envy closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around Ed's waist, his palm feeling the taut and well-toned muscles of the young alchemist's back. "Just exactly how long do you expect you will continue to blatantly lie to me," he asked.

Ed was silent for a long while, but Envy could hear his unvarying breathing in his ear and feel it's warmth against his neck. He waited patiently, cognizant that, if given time, Ed would eventually divulge to him, that which was essentially troubling him.

"I saw him again," Ed whispered in a shaky breath. "He…he was b-bleeding everywhere. His blood was on my hands and on my face. I-I could even taste it in my mouth."

Envy's senses shot to attention when he felt Edward's small frame begin to tremble against him.

"He just kept clawing his way towards me," Ed continued, his voice progressively ascending to a horror-filled tone and beginning to grow hysterical and frenzied. "He told me it was my fault that he had his body back, the body that could no longer support his life. It-it was falling apart and parts of him were missing but…but his face was still as it had always been. His face that I haven't seen in almost a decade, those same eyes, same nose, same mouth and voice screaming from it! 'It's all your fault!' he yelled at me. 'Who ever said I wanted my body back!? You've killed me! All this body can do is slowly destroy me once more, just like the first time when you forced my death upon me!'" Ed began to clutch at his lovers body, his nails scratching at his shoulders and chest, breaking the skin and forcing a minute bit of blood to flow to the surface, automail squeezing his arms hard enough to cause bruises. Envy winced slightly, but paid the abrasions and contusions no mind; they would heal overnight. Now, he was more concerned with keeping a hold on Edward's shuddering body that spasmed against him in a fit of pained and despairing dread. It was a challenge to retain his composure as the boy started to heave panic-stricken sobs, tears flowing freely and liberally onto his neck, collar and shoulders. This wasn't the first time Edward had behaved this way. On the contrary, Envy had dealt with this particular concern on many a night. Without the knowledge of what had happened to his younger brother, Ed had always possessed a ceaseless paranoia that his transmutation had failed and that Alphonse had been fated to perish in a slow and agonizing death all alone in that underground city.

Envy could only softly whisper words of encouragement into Edward's ear as he continued to weep. He stroked the boy's hair and rubbed his back in a consoling gesture, the only way he knew to calm and assuage him. Envy wasn't sure how long Ed went on crying and sporadically whimpering his brother's name and innumerable apologies to his brother and lover, but ultimately, after a time, he quieted down, his head resting against Envy's chest, gold eyes half-lidded and dark with a forlorn depression. The homunculus knew that he could do nothing for his lover to allay that dejection; only time could alleviate it now.

"Why are you still here with me," Edward asked, his voice weary and barely audible, his breath hot against Envy's flesh as he felt the boys soft lips moving against it with each word he uttered. He could only lie there, absolutely enervated and somnolent.

Envy slowly leaned down and kissed his lovers forehead affectionately. "The same reason you're probably here."

"I'm sorry," Ed murmured, closing his eyes.

"You have no reason to be," Envy reassured him. "Just sleep, things will look better in the morning."

And just before the two drifted off into a peaceful slumber, free from anxiety from the restful warmth and security in the safety of each others arms, Envy only just heard his lover mumble, "Doesn't it always?"

* * *

As the hot sun beat down on Riza's back, she began to ponder if it had been such a good idea to move out of the military dorms at headquarters. The trek between her office and her new home was a lengthy one and was beginning to grow fairly monotonous. With a grunt, she heaved the strap of her bag onto her shoulder as it began to slip gradually down her arm. It was an onerous effort having to carry her paperwork to and from home and work. The stress that had been placed on her mind this afternoon only served to aid the weariness of her body. 

"Roy Mustang, you'd better be damn grateful for this," she muttered to herself, knowing full well that her former commanding officer really did appreciate the trouble she went through for him.

After the Fuhrer's death, Roy was instantaneously ousted from the military and stripped of all his honors and tributes for his time in service to the state. Apparently, the Assembly didn't see his overthrowing of a corrupt leader as any sort of compensation for murdering the Fuhrer. She never completely understood their decision, nor did she question it, at Roy's request.

He seemed to be happy now. He was never allowed to be a State Alchemist again and it would take a long time for him to work his way towards the top, but the man appeared content working as an assistant to Sciezka, though his book keeping skills were minimal. Though, the Lieutenant had known Roy long enough to know that appearances were deceiving. Generally, he merely returned Sciezka's books to their proper shelves, delivered requested texts, and helped to organize the offices.

However, the information that was administered to Lieutenant Hawkeye this afternoon was not delivered by Roy Mustang…

Jeffery Hume, the man who had taken over in Roy's place, was quite an unexciting man. He was young, barely older than Master Sergeant Fuery it seemed, and appeared as if he was quite inexperienced in military manners. In spite of this, the man was especially intelligent and eloquent. His tedious nature and behavior was not entirely the fault of the newly instituted General. After the overthrow and death of Fuhrer King Bradley, the country of Amestris was relatively at peace. Needless to say, bordering countries would, from time to time, break out in a small uprising at the borders, but such riots were easily suppressed by the Border Security Officers.

_Today, in particular, was a relatively uneventful day for Hume's staff. Breda had been spending his time trying to educate Falman in various card games (and being beaten each time; it seemed that he had forgotten that Falman had graduated at the top of his class in a very prestigious university in West City. Why someone as intelligent as that would spend their life in the military was beyond Riza's comprehension) and Fuery was entertaining Black Hayate with a small chicken bone. Havoc merely leaned back in his chair, his feet up on his desk, that cigarette hanging carelessly from his lips the way it always did. Riza had immersed her attention in a book on military rifle tactics. Occasionally, she glance up from her text, hoping that by a minute chance she would see General Mustang at his desk, deep in slumber with his head on his paperwork. Riza had grown fairly accustomed, in fact she'd go so far as to say fond of, to the General's routine of waiting until the last minute to complete his day's work, then rushing to finish it all, cursing loudly and ordering his subordinates to stall for time throughout the entire ordeal. She mentally laughed when she recalled how Fuery had faked a heart attack to distract Mustang's superiors from coming to collect his paperwork._

_General Hume was quite the opposite. When Lieutenant Hawkeye peeked over the top of her book, her new commanding officer was not to be found dozing or swearing; he sat placidly at his desk, quietly and patiently filling out his paperwork with a relaxed smile on his face. _

_"Dammit, Falman," Breda swore, throwing his "rags" down in front of him. "You're cheating."_

_"I promise, I'm not," Falman responded looking affronted._

_"Then how the hell do you keep winning?" Breda whined as Falman collected the cards up and began shuffling them again. _

_"It's all a matter of studying probability," Falman stated, smiling cheerfully._

_Breda looked up at the man inquisitively. "Probability?"_

_"Of course," Falman continued. He snatched a slice of paper from his desk and began to scribble down various formulas and equations onto it. "See, by using a sample space of four possible outcomes for each card, thirteen for each suit of course, I can predict what cards you have in your hand and which are in the deck by using the probability from the cards in my hand. If I have a seven and five of hearts, an ace of clubs, and a two and six of spades, that means there's a 3/45 chance that the other sevens are…"_

_Riza didn't hear the rest of what Falman instructed to Breda. Card games never really interested her and she had other thoughts on her mind, thoughts about General Hume. Something about the young man unnerved her._

_Unexpectedly, the General glanced up and spotted Riza staring. She quickly ducked her head back down and continued reading her book, vainly hoping he hadn't noticed her. _

_"Is something wrong, Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Hume inquired gently._

_"Not really, sir," Riza responded, still calmly reading._

_"What's that you're reading?" he asked politely, standing up from his desk._

_"Military rifle tactics, sir," Hawkeye replied shortly, wishing the man would return to his desk._

_Instead he continued to advance towards her, a good-natured expression on his face. "Yes, I did hear that you were quite the sharp shooter before I became a General. I do hope that if any trouble arises, you'll be there to keep the State safe."_

_"Well, I believe that is my job, isn't it, sir?"_

_"I suppose it is…" General Hume said lightly. "I've heard great things about you from many of my superiors and from the Assembly. I presume I won't have to worry about anything. You all seem exceptionally dependable."_

_"That's very kind of you, sir," Riza said, looking up from her book. But the General wasn't looking at her. He was gazing out the window, a far-off look in his eyes and a sad smile on his lips._

_It was at that moment that a young man about Fuery's stature stepped into the office doorway and knocked lightly on the doorframe. "I'm sorry to interrupt your work, General, sir," the man stated, looking nervous and a bit flattered at the same time. He must have felt proud to be delivering a message to someone as prominent as a General. "But I have a report from a station in the west." He extracted a large manila folder from his messenger bag, before holding it out to the General._

_Hume walked over to the boy and received the document from him. "Thank you, is that all?"_

_Riza found it bitterly ironic that this messenger was almost the same height as the General himself. The Fuhrer may have been out of power, but the Assembly was making mistakes of its own. Military personnel were getting younger and younger these days. _

_"Yes, sir, there should be a copy for each member of your staff. If anything is missing, you can contact Private Sciezka to send you another." The boy then saluted the General before turning and walking off with his head held high in pride, practically marching down the hallway._

_The General handed a copy of the report to each of his subordinates before opening his own. _

_Riza opened the document and began to scan over it. She gasped almost inaudibly and was thankful that she wasn't the only one as she heard her comrades around her do the same. _

_"This can't be right," she heard Breda mumble to himself. "Are they talking about who I think they're talking about?"_

_"Either that, or someone out west is off their rocker," Havoc commented._

_Riza gaped at the report with a horror-stricken look on her face for what seemed like an eternity._

_"Is there something wrong with this report?" General Hume questioned, unknowledgeable as to what exactly this document was stating._

_Riza shut the report folder abruptly and shoved it hastily in her bag before arising from her seat and heaving her bag onto her shoulder. "I'm leaving for the day," she affirmed tersely. "I'm afraid an emergency has arisen and I must leave. I'm sorry for this unexpected occurrence, General, sir."_

_General Hume appeared bewildered at the lieutenant's sudden upset and felt far too flustered at her behavior to confront her. "Um...okay, but I'll expect your reports on my desk tomorrow morning," he stammered as she strode to the open office door. _

_"Don't worry, sir. I'm always very timely with my paperwork," she replied just before exiting the office. _

Riza scowled at the thought of the file that rest in her bag. The report was not one of ill tidings, but one of complications for her former commanding officer. His injuries had not completely healed as of yet and news such as this was bound to have him attempting tasks that were beyond his strength at this time. Though, she speculated how she would delay the information from reaching him as he habitually inquired her for information from headquarters every day.

After leaving the military, Roy had persistently tried to stay up to date with military information that he wasn't exactly privy to. So, whenever Riza would return, he requested that she brief him on any new reports that happened to have fallen under General Hume's jurisdiction and of any news she had heard around headquarters.

Riza didn't mind doing this for him; he had been in the military for such a long duration that it wasn't surprising that he felt as if he were being left in the dark now that he was only permitted to view documents that the public had access to as well. Anything beyond that was impermissible by the Assembly.

Riza breathed a sigh of relief as she saw her house not too far down the street. All she wanted now was to get out of the heat and relax.

The house she had purchased was a small one, the closest and most affordable residence to military headquarters, but it suited the woman well. While she hated trudging from the center of town to her house every day, she enjoyed the peace and quiet that came from living outside of the metropolis of Central.

The house was beige with wooden shutters on the windows and a green tiled roof. The front of the house wasn't much to look at; a brown door, a few windows with plain, white curtains, and a small light over the entrance didn't make the house at all extraordinary compared to the other homes around it.

As Riza stepped up the front door, lugging her bag the whole way, she reached into her pocket and fished out her house keys only to find the door was already open. She stared at the door handle for a few moments in wonder before she let out an exasperated sigh. "So, I guess he came home early again…"

She pushed the door open and it let out a faint protesting squeak; Riza had still not found the time to oil the door hinges.

The inside of her new home was quite spacious, despite the dwellings external appearance. The first room entered from the front door was the living room, a large area with wooden floors, a little couch, a wooden bookshelf, a single lamp, and a telephone resting on a white end table.

The lieutenant resisted the urge to drop her bag on the couch and head straight to the kitchen for a cool drink and instead, took it with her as she did every day. She frequently chided Roy for being untidy and it was better to haul her paperwork a few extra feet than to commit herself to being a hypocrite.

Upon entering the kitchen, she promptly dropped her bag onto the dinner table, jostling it slightly and threatening to knock over the salt shaker. With a tired groan, Riza removed her uniform jacket, relieved to get the warm layer of clothing off of her. She frowned at the sight of her white undershirt, soaked in sweat and clinging to her much more saturated black shirt underneath. Quenching thirst would have to wait; she'd have to change out of this sweaty uniform immediately.

As Riza departed the kitchen, she unclipped her hair, letting it tumble down her shoulders. The hairs on the back of her neck were sticking to her skin but that would be resolved after she had a shower, which she intended on taking.

When she reached the stairs she called out Roy's name, only to hear no call in response. Perhaps the man was asleep. It was an unusually hot day and the heat seemed to be taking a toll on everyone's energy. She reached the top of the steps and peeked into his room only to find it absent of Roy's presence. He was home, that much was sure; his things were resting in a pile on his bed: his uniform jacket, his bag, his books, all looked as if they had been carelessly thrown onto the bed. Where Roy was now though, Riza had no idea. She could look for him after she bathed. In all probability, he was most likely out shopping for food for dinner tonight. Riza surmised he would be back by the time she finished with her shower.

She turned and walked to her room instead, which was just across the hall from Roy's, and stepped inside. She closed her door and locked it, not trusting Mustang's statement that he thought he'd lived with her long enough to remember to respect a woman's personal space. It wasn't that she believed he would try and spy on her, she only doubted that he would remember not to burst into a woman's room unannounced.

She unbuttoned her white undershirt with a disgusted look at the sweat covered piece of clothing. It's not that Riza was unaccustomed to getting a little sweaty at work, but having to wallow in it longer than necessary was what made her so uncomfortable. It wasn't a problem for her, nor dirt, nor bruises, nor scrapes of the knee, nor the breaking of a nail if she really had any long enough to break.

She stepped into her bathroom and removed her white undershirt, depositing it in the clothes hamper next to the bathroom door. Next followed her black shirt and her bra, and when she was fully undressed and each article of clothing had been placed in the hamper, she turned to her shower and twisted the taps, the sound of water rushing out of the shower head that followed one of the most beautiful things she'd ever heard. The water was still cold when she stepped underneath it, but she didn't care. She relished in the relief the cool water brought to her aching back and shoulders. The troublesome news could wait, she mused. Right now, I just want to get clean.

* * *

Lieutenant Hawkeye released a relieved sigh when she emerged from her shower, finally feeling clean. She reached for a towel that was hung tidily on the rail on the wall and wrapped it around herself before stepping over to the sink and fishing for an extra towel from the cupboard underneath. She draped this towel around her dripping hair and took a look at her clouded mirror. She wiped her hand across it, cursing herself for not realizing that it would leave marks on the glass later. 

Riza began to dry off her body and caught the reflection of her shoulder in the mirror. The scar there was still reasonably prominent. She imagined the night she had gotten it had been one of the most terrifying of her life.

_Riza could hear her own ragged breathing in her ears as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Blood from the wound on her shoulder was dripping slowly down her arm and it pulsed with searing pain, but she disregarded the discomfort. The General was depending on her now; how could she have been so stupid as to not anticipate Colonel Archer's wrath against Mustang? Then again, she wasn't aware that the man was still alive after what had happened to him in Lior. But that was no excuse; it was her responsibility to protect the General. _

_She spotted the Fuhrer's house just ahead and saw that there was a fire blazing inside it that hadn't yet engulfed the whole mansion. Speeding up, she scowled when she set eyes on Archer standing at the front gate, his back to her. _

_She made no sign of hesitation as she stopped and fired her gun, once, twice, again and again with tremendous accuracy; the Lieutenant couldn't afford another mistake tonight._

_To Riza's great relief, the Colonel wheeled around before falling heavily to the ground. She wasted no time as she dashed past Archer's body and up to the front of the house._

_She froze in her tracks when she spied him, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of him lying face down on the front step, his head resting in a pool of blood and a small boy sprawled out beside him. In a moment she was kneeling at his side, shaking him gently. "General?" she stated, her voice trembling, despite her efforts to keep it solid and steady. "General! Dammit, Roy Mustang, talk to me!" But he gave no indication of life._

_It all seemed to pile up on her in one terrifying moment; it overpowered her and swallowed her entire being before she even had a chance to realize it. She had failed; her foul-up had cost the General his life. She broke down sobbing, laying her head on his body, as if trying to protect him from what she had already failed to._

_Then, she heard it; a faint beat of his heart! He might still be alive!_

_Carefully, Riza rolled the man onto his back, nearly retching at the sight of his face. That bastard shot out his eye!_

_"General?" she called out, louder this time as she hastily removed her jacket. "General? Can you hear me?" She began to tear up her jacket, using the scraps to attempt to clean off some of the blood from his face and used the rest to bind his other lesions. She didn't trust to tend to his eye. She may have had medical training, but it wasn't that extensive nor was she that proficient. She took his hand and spied the transmutation circle drawn upon it in blood; he truly was a brilliant man. "Roy, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."_

_The Lieutenant waited for an ostensibly interminable moment and a panic began to rise in her again when nothing happened. _

_Then she felt him squeeze his fingers weakly around her own and felt him move his arm slightly._

_"You're alive!" Riza exclaimed happily. "Don't worry, General. Medical services will be along to help you soon." She continued to bandage his wounds, cradling him in her arms, protecting him from the rest of the violent and reckless State of Amestris._

Thank goodness the State's hospitals were so timely, Riza thought to herself as she pulled on a clean, white blouse and black slacks. Such an outfit was a requirement to those who resided in the dorms if they were to ever be at headquarters out of uniform. After moving out, Riza believed it unnecessary to purchase all new clothing, so she continued to don the blouse and slacks. Of course, she had always had the option of a black skirt but the likelihood of wearing something of that nature in Roy's company was slim to none. And all the times the man had tried to persuade her to wear the skirt had only discouraged her further.

After she finished dressing, she left her room and made her way down the hall and proceeded downstairs, fixing her hair back up as she descended the flight of stairs. She heard Black Hayate barking from the backyard and realized it must have been around three o'clock. Fuery would consistently drop off the Lieutenant's dog at home during his lunch break, commonly around this time. The dog was almost certainly out back, chasing after a squirrel or a bird.

She entered her kitchen and began towards the sink, but abruptly stopped at the door leading to the backyard.

She beheld Black Hayate, barking playfully and chasing after grasshoppers and butterflies before he trotted back to the figure lying on his back in the grass, his arms behind his head and his face towards the sun. Riza smiled warmly as she watched Black Hayate nudge Roy's side, imploring him to play. Roy lifted his head somewhat, looking a little surprised, and then smiled, petting the dog's head. Then, he lay back once more and continued his ceaseless staring at the vivid blue sky and the few wisps of clouds that drifted across it.

Quietly, Riza opened the back door and began making her way out to the man, who seemed so absorbed in his thought as to not notice her.

"Did you just get back?" she inquired when she finally reached him.

He turned his gaze to her and smiled fondly. "No, I've been here since early afternoon."

Riza frowned slightly as she knelt down in the grass next to him. "Was there something the matter at work, sir?"

Roy's smile faded and his eyes took on an undeterminable haze. "You know, I was thinking of becoming a Corporal," he confessed, reaching up and pushing a loose strand of hair behind the Lieutenant's ear. "In the North."

"And why is that, sir?"

Roy continued to stare at her and Riza could vaguely see flashing of reminiscences and dreams of the future behind Roy's eyes, as if he were calculating a way to make it back to his position as the Flame Alchemist in his mind. "I want to do all I can to help the State, Lieutenant," he elucidated. "And I'm no help to anyone here." He gave a weak grin. "Besides, how long exactly do you intend to put up with me living off of your salary?"

Riza gave the man a stern look. "Don't say such idiotic things, sir. You know that Sciezka appreciates your assistance and I was the one who offered to take care of you. So stop thinking of yourself as an encumbrance." She softly slapped Roy's hand away from her face, which had been carelessly wandering across her cheek.

The man looked a bit hurt, but his hand slid down to Riza's shoulder instead and placed his palm over it gently. "How is it healing?"

The Lieutenant smiled and lightly touched the dark patch covering Roy's eye. "About as well as yours."

Roy frowned a little and his grip on her shoulder tightened somewhat. "Lieutenant…about that night-"

"Come on," Riza interrupted as she got to her feet. "Let's go inside and start dinner."

He gave her a curious look before releasing a defeated sigh and standing up as well. "If you say so," he stated with a faint smile.

The two of them entered the house and Riza automatically stepped over to the sink and began to wash her hands. "Was there any news today?" Roy asked her as he spotted her bag sitting on the dining table.

Riza tensed at his inquiry but forced herself to make no sign of apprehension in her stance or her voice. "Nothing of any consequence, sir."

"Hmm, it must be a slow day," she heard Roy say before she heard him moving her bag to the chair in the corner. "It's sad that Hume really has nothing to do when there's-"

The man suddenly cut off and Riza glanced up inquisitively. "Is something wrong?" She froze when she saw that manila folder in his hands and a sinking feeling in her stomach ensued.

He opened the folder and began to scan it, his eyes growing more and more stunned with each line. However, along with that expression of shock also came a grim miasma of stern determination. Riza turned her gaze from him, unable to look at his face which only served to ameliorate the augmentation of a sensation of fear and dread for the man's safety and health in her mind.

"When exactly did you intend to tell me about this?" Roy asked his voice disturbingly quiet and solid. Nevertheless, Riza could sense the subtle undertone of a disconcerting mixture of alarm and joy.

"When I thought you were ready, sir," Riza responded softly as she strove to keep her hands from shaking.

"And when, precisely, did you think that would be?"

"When you were fully healed, sir."

"I believe something like that is a doctor's determination, Lieutenant."

"I felt I had a right to protect you, since that is my job."

"Do you think I need protecting from something like this?"

Riza finally looked up at Roy, her gaze stalwart and resolute. "If I'm correct about what you're planning in that head of yours," she said unfalteringly. "Than yes, I do."

It was difficult to tell if Roy was surprised, infuriated, aggravated, or pained by the Lieutenant's statements, but the woman was sure that he was feeling a little of each one at that moment. He held her gaze for what felt to her like hours before he looked away and threw the folder down on the dinner table.

"I'm going out for a bit," he mumbled, walking back into the living room. "I'll be back for dinner."

Riza quickly dried her hands and began to follow the man. "Where are you going?"

"It doesn't matter," Roy replied passively as he took his coat off its hook on the wall.

Riza was becoming increasingly fretful as he pulled on his coat. "Roy, please, just stay and calm down."

"I'm perfectly calm," the man stated, opening the front door. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Roy," Riza called to him, but he refused to respond. "Roy!"

The front door closed and Riza found herself all alone in her house, a dreary cloud of emotional turmoil hanging over her.

* * *

Why am I alive? Why am I still here? Is there some God out there keeping me on this Earth? Does that God really love me that much? Or perhaps he hates me and only wants to see me suffer? 

There was another creak of rusted automail as the frail homunculus took another step forward. How long have I been walking?, Wrath wondered. Even with the incessant reminder of passing time through innumerable and inevitable sunrises and sunsets, the concept of time was a complicated one to grasp when wandering aimlessly and despondently day in and day out. Each footfall was laborious and agonizing due to the deteriorating state of the automail leg that had replaced his human limb.

Wrath had done nothing but drift and digress since he left Resembool without any warning to the boy and women who were living there. He had wanted to tell the girl, Winry he believed she was called, that he was going to depart, but had opted not to on the suspicion that she might try and stop him. To his great relief, no one had come after him when he was gone. And why should they? He was in no danger. Nothing could kill him, he still had a few red stones left inside of him to withstand the ferocity of even the strongest creature.

Nevertheless, he recalled when an old man had shot at him a day ago. The bullet had gone straight through the homunculus' left shoulder, yet no blood burst forth from the wound. Though, to Wrath's great surprise, the injury had caused a pain in him so great that he was forced to flee before the man had a proper chance to shoot at him again. The effect of the stones were wearing off, and the bullet had not yet come out of his shoulder. In a few days time, he was likely to be at the mercy of a rather severe laceration of his muscles and would almost certainly bleed to death, with no one around to help him.

As Wrath continued to take slow, weary steps towards an indefinite destination, he looked around to try and discern his exact location. The sun was beginning to set but he could still make out lush green fields, rolling hills, and small houses all connected by thin dirt roads. He gave an embittered smile at the realization that he had come fill circle. He was back in Resembool. It was just the kind of thing to be expected from a wretched creature like himself. He hated people, hated the filthy human race that had created him, yet the moment his life was on the line, he came crawling back to them for help.

"Let me die…" he mumbled as he collapsed in a piteous heap on the ground, his feeble attempts at walking finally failing him completely. His automail was in disarray and he doubted that it was even fixable anymore. He really wouldn't have minded dying right here in this very spot. The grass was somewhat moist with cool dew and the air was pleasantly warm, the contrasting sensations soothing his aching body. "Mommy," he whimpered as he closed his eyes, desperately longing for the woman's company. Wrath did not fear death, however, he feared going into that specters cold grip all alone.

Vaguely in the back of his mind, he heard someone calling his name, crying out for him. His eyes filling with tears, the slight, defenseless boy reached out his arms as best as he could. "Mommy," he sobbed feebly. He felt welcoming arms surround him, cradling him against a warm body, calling out his name the whole time, and Wrath could almost perceive a hint of sorrow and pleading in the voice. He opened his eyes slightly and saw someone there above him, poignant eyes filled with tears that dripped slowly onto his neck, somewhat lessening the numbness of his senses. He felt something being pressed to his lips, followed by the taste of revitalizing water flowing into his mouth. By instinct, he drank the liquid appreciatively, yet still in his mind there was a voice screaming that he should be left to die.

"Hold on, please," he heard the person sob. "You'll be alright, just hold on a little longer."

Wrath didn't need to be told twice. The moment he was no longer being given water, he did as best as he could to huddle against the body that was holding him and fell into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

_RING!RING!_

"Huh?" Winry murmured as she jerked awake. She rubbed her eyes quickly, silently cursing herself for dozing off again.

The phone continued to ring, sounding obnoxious at such a late hour of the day. With a yawn, the young woman stood up from her seat by the window and went over to the table where the phone rest, ringing again and again.

She picked up the receiver, grateful when the ringing finally stopped. "Hello?" she mumbled tiredly.

"Winry? Is that you?"

"Mmhmm, Winry Rockbell speaking."

"Hi, Winry," the voice on the other end said cheerfully. "It's Alphonse."

Winry smiled warmly. "Al, I didn't expect I'd be hearing from you until tomorrow. How's your training coming?"

"Well," Al began diffidently. "Teacher's come down with something so she has to stay in bed for a while, but she thinks she's getting better."

Winry sensed an aura melancholy gloom drift into her mind. It was a wonder that Izumi had lived even this long. She could only pray that this "illness" that the woman had come down with was nothing too serious.

"You see, the thing is," Al continued. "I was wondering if I could come back home and maybe Teacher could stay with us until she got better."

Winry thought on this for a moment. "I don't see why not. Granny said that you were always welcome to come home."

"That sounds great…"Al trailed off for a moment. "Winry? Has brother come home at all?"

"N…no, Al," Winry replied, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. "He hasn't."

"I promise I'll find a way to bring him back, I know he's still alive," Al reassured the girl. "Don't worry, I'll find out how to open the Gate and bring brother back to us."

"I'm sure you will, Al." Winry glanced over at her bed and frowned. "By the way, do you remember that homunculus that I gave Ed's automail to?"

There was a moment of silence before Al answered. "Yes, why?"

"Well, he came back today. I found him outside just before dinner."

"Is he alright?" Al asked, sounding slightly worried.

"He'll be okay in due time," she replied. "He has a bullet lodged in his left shoulder, but if I can manage to extract it and avoid any unnecessary blood loss, he should be alright."

"You can do it, Winry!" Al exclaimed encouragingly. "I know you can!"

Winry laughed softly. "Thanks, Al. So, when should Granny and I expect you?"

"In about a week," the boy responded. "I'll go buy the train tickets tomorrow. I have to go and help Mason now, but I'll try and call you before we leave."

"Alright, take care then," she told him.

"Goodbye, Winry. Give my regards to Granny."

"Goodbye, Al."

Winry heard the click as the other line disconnected and hung up the phone. She turned back to her bed and sighed faintly. She silently stepped over to the bedside and sat down, gazing warmheartedly at the boy who lay there. Truly, the fate of the homunculus had looked grim at first when Winry originally found him, collapsed on the grass a short ways from her house. She thought he was going to die and had panicked at the notion. But after she had given him water, he seemed to improve. Distantly, she wondered how long it had been since he'd had anything to eat. Granny had helped her bring the boy into the house and put him in Winry's bed to rest. It was by sheer luck that she already had stew prepared for dinner that night and when the boy finally awoke, Winry was there with a bowl of the delicious meal to feed him. However, at first, he had seemed hesitant of accepting anything from him.

_Wrath gazed at Winry curiously as she offered the bowl to him. "Here," she stated softly. "For you. You should eat and regain your strength."_

_The boy stared at the bowl and Winry could see the hunger in his eyes, yet he made no move to take the food from her. "I don't want it," he whispered, turning away._

_She saw his hand clench into fist against the blankets of her bed, his automail hand having an arduous time closing. "Your arm has rusted up," she observed. "Do you want me to fix it for you?"_

_"No," Wrath replied, his voice still barely audible. "You don't have to fix it."_

_"But how do you expect to walk with rusted automail?" She set the bowl of stew on the nightstand and gently took his rusted arm. She felt the boy tense a bit and saw his eyes fill with a sort of anxious fear. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," she reassured him._

_Carefully, she moved each of his fingers, examining the areas that needed to be fixed with a meticulous sight. She did the same with his wrist, elbow, and shoulder. "There's a lot of damage, but it looks fixable," she concluded. "If worse comes to worse, I can make you an all new one."_

_Wrath looked up at her slightly. "Really?"_

_Winry smiled down at him. "Of course, it's not too hard."_

_Wrath glanced away again, looking somewhat embarrassed. "You don't have to make me a new one." His eyes briefly darted towards the stew on the nightstand._

_Winry grasped the bowl and held it out to him again. "I know I don't have to, but I want to."_

_For a minute, Wrath merely stared at the bowl, his eyes showing a sort of struggle between a desire to appear strong and his natural instinct of hunger. But in the end, he took it and began to eat the stew. And as he ate, tears began pouring down his eyes; he truly was a pathetic and wretched creature. _

_When he finally finished the stew off, Winry took the bowl from him as he continued to cry, sniffling and using his real hand to wipe the tears away. Over time, his weeping and sobbing gradually faded away before he fell asleep once more._

Since he had fallen asleep, Winry had been sitting in the chair by her window, watching over him. Thank goodness the phone had woken her up or she may have slept through the entire night. Reaching over, she soothingly brushed a loose strand of hair out of the boy's eyes.

"Mommy…" he murmured tranquilly before he rolled over onto his side, hugging his pillow against him.

Winry watched the boy contemplatively. She speculated on what Izumi might do when she arrived here next week and finally saw her son once again.


	2. Chapter 2: Mind's Illustrious Mistress

**A Rainy Sunday Afternoon**

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for keeping up with the story! I sure hope you liked the first chapter. I write fiction and fanfiction and that last chapter is possibly one of the best things I've ever written, so I'm very glad you all read it. Anywho, welcome to chapter 2! I'm going to try and update regularly and not let a lot of time pass between my updates. Once again, reviews are greatly appreciated.

My favorite person(s): radcat38

Thanks for the awesome review! I really appreciate your input!

Well, onward to the next chapter! There might be a bit of a delay for the third chapter, seeing as how it isn't entirely finished yet.

Copyright Notice: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, it's plot, or it's merchandise. Fullmetal Alchemist is copyrighted by Hiromu Arakawa, FuNimation, Square Enix, bones, and the rest of it's sponsors and supporters.

* * *

Chapter 2 - Mind's Illustrious Mistress 

"When an individual (or a group of individuals)  
is kept in a situation of inferiority, the fact is  
that he is inferior. But the significance of the  
verb _to be_ must be rightly understood here;  
it is in bad faith to give it a static value when  
it really has the dynamic Hegelian sense of  
'to have become.'"

_- _Simone De Beauvoir

* * *

_Maes Hughes could sense it immediately. A foreboding sensation of depression and misery. Moreover, the atmosphere of the dorms didn't help to eradicate that feeling. Now that he was living in his new home with Gracia, he had forgotten how disheartening the dorms at Central Headquarters could be. The only pleasing thing now was the scent of the pie that Gracia had made, resting peacefully in the basket that Maes carried. He hadn't bothered to call to tell his friend that he was coming. Roy never had company anymore anyways. After returning from the campaign in the East, the man had rarely been agreeable when it came to visitors. He spoke very little and always seemed depressed and anxious. Even Second Lieutenant Hawkeye was unable to cope with the stifling sense of wretchedness that Roy seemed to give off. _

_Maes finally reached his friends room and stopped at the door. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he might find in that dark chasm of agony and self-pity. This was the first time that Maes had visited Roy in nearly two weeks, but Hawkeye had disclosed to him that when she passed by his room last, it smelled strongly of paint and blood. _

_Determined to find out what, exactly, it was that Roy was doing in there, Hughes turned to the door and knocked. _

_He could hear his friend's footsteps as he approached the door, though, when it opened, Maes was still unprepared for the man that he was facing._

_Truly, Roy was a wreck. His cheeks were sunken in and he hadn't shaved in days. His skin was deathly pale and his hair was tousled had certain patches of short hair or bald spots as if some hair had been ripped out. The expression in the man's eyes lined by dark circles was one of despair and anguish. However, Maes could perceive the hint of insanity that lurked behind his pain. _

_Hughes smiled warmly to mask his reaction of shock, holding out the basket to his friend. "This is an apple pie I got my girlfriend to bake for you. Want it?"_

_Roy weakly smiled and stepped aside. "Come on in," he murmured, his voice soft and feeble._

_Maes stepped inside and walked over by the window, the only place in the whole room that produced any light. _

_He looked around him with a grim gaze. Books were piled everywhere, scraps of paper marking numerous pages, clipboards untidily holding papers with scribbles of transmutation circles and equations on it, buckets filled with red paint and transmutation circles drawn all over the floors. It was a gruesome sight, the ultimate outcome of a man's memories of war. "Roy…"_

_"It's just as you see," the major stated. "It's what they call a taboo."_

_Maes turned and strode over to his friend, anger swelling up inside him and crushing his empathy. He grabbed Roy roughly by the front of his shirt and stared at him coldly. "I don't understand alchemy," he bit out. "But there is one thing I know! Those who commit a taboo…"_

_Roy smiled grimly and gently pushed his friend off him. He looked away, too cowardly to meet Maes eyes. "Don't worry, I haven't done anything."_

_"But you were going to."_

_Roy shoved his hands into his pockets. "A lot of people died," he said. "I mean, I killed a lot of people, after all."_

_"It was a war," Hughes stated._

_"You weren't there," Roy insisted, turning away._

_"That's right," Maes agreed. "If you didn't want to kill the enemy in war, you should have requested a desk job like me. Did you really think that you would help if you became a State Alchemist and tried to revive some of the dead people?!"_

_Roy smiled smugly. "I don't know…"_

_Enraged, Hughes swiftly punched the man in the side of his face. "Is a taboo so easy to commit that you need to study for just a little while?"_

_Roy simply stared off, his fingers feeling the swiftly forming bruise on his cheek. _

_"Or did you want to die?" Maes continued. " If that's the case, there's an easier way to do that."_

_Roy's eyes briefly darted towards the gun that rest on his desk. He hated looking at the thing. It only served to remind him of how much of a coward he was. He stood up straight, still unable to make eye contact with his friend. "I couldn't try it, since I was afraid of dying," the man confessed, shame-faced. _

_"Of course."_

_"That's the kind of human I am."_

_"Everyone is like that!"_

_"But…"Roy looked up slightly, his eyes taking on a determined expression. "Even a life like mine will have some use."_

_Maes gave Roy a surprised look. So it wasn't a taboo he was going to commit, he thought._

_"Maes," Roy began. He turned to his friend, his appearance one of unwavering strength, the first sign of life he'd really shown in weeks. "I've decided…"_

_Maes looked at his friend in wonder. Roy had gone from a state of horrid sadness to strong perseverance in mere moments. Whatever this plan was that Roy was cooking up in his mind, Maes knew that it was something he strongly believed in._

_"Let me hear it, Roy."_

Roy Mustang gazed down at the gravestone that read "Maes Hughes," a bouquet of flowers in hand. "Dammit, Maes, you're such an idiot," he mumbled.

Why had he done it?, the man thought to himself. Why did he go alone on this? Why didn't he ask me for help?

The sun was now beginning to set in the sky, shading the heavens dark hues of purple and orange. Roy knew that he probably should be getting back home for dinner, but he really didn't care about that at the moment.

With a soft sigh, he placed the flowers gently atop the grave. "You know, that kids alive, Hughes. And his brother has a body now," he whispered. "They finally got their wish." Roy's eyes narrowed and he found himself hating Edward immensely. "But why the hell did it have to come at the expense of your life?!"

He had never blamed Ed for what had happened to Hughes until now. Back then, when they were still searching desperately for that horrid stone, they had no idea that the Lieutenant Colo-…the Brigadier General had been killed. But now, for some indefinite and illogical reason, the fact that the Elrics had gotten everything they wanted and his friend ended up losing his life for them filled him with fury.

Roy hunched over as he knelt in front of the grave. "I hate them Hughes, but…I don't know why," he choked. It wasn't like him to get teary-eyed very often, but suddenly, he just couldn't help it. "I hate them and I love them. It just doesn't make any sense anymore." He put his hand on the gravestone, his fingers tracing the engraved letters on its surface. "What should I do, Maes?" he murmured as he felt a tear slowly roll down his cheek. "What can I do?"

* * *

Riza came to a halt at the flower shop in Central, gasping for breath. She had spent the last two hours running all around the city looking for Roy. The look in his eyes before he left had troubled her; she was afraid the man would try something rash. She saw a woman at the flower shop, sorting through an armful of different colored carnations and placing them into separate buckets. She was tall, curvy, a decent sized chest, with chestnut locks and sparkling blue eyes. Riza groaned and rolled her eyes as she realized that this woman probably knew exactly where Roy was. She was just his type, the kind he'd always stop to talk to on the way back from shopping for dinner. With this simple thought in mind, it made the task of asking the woman for help an even more embarrassing endeavor for Riza. With a sigh, she approached the smiling young lady. 

"Excuse me, miss," she began and the woman looked up at her. "Did you happen to see a man come by here this evening. He's tall, dark hair, he was probably wearing a long black jacket?"

The woman thought for a moment and placed her left index finger to her lower lip as she pondered, which only served to stir the feeling of discomfiture in Riza's stomach. That particular gesture was something that Roy always said he found simply adorable.

'Stop doing that,' Riza thought to herself. 'He's not here so don't bother trying to be cute.' That small little thing made her feel as if the man were standing right next to her, that sly smile plastered on his face.

"I do remember him," the woman said with a smile. "He bought a small bouquet of flowers about an hour or two ago. Headed down towards the cemetery afterwards. You might find him there."

Riza didn't need anymore help in finding Roy. She knew just where to go.

She hastily thanked the woman before turning to leave, but someone grabbed her wrist.

She turned to see the young woman gently holding her arm with a small smile. She let go of Riza and offered her a beautiful, pure white carnation. "Here, why don't you give him this?" she suggested, her eyes compassionate and kind. "He seemed a bit troubled. Perhaps someone so beautiful and so concerned for him as you could cheer him up a bit with this."

Riza felt a slight blush creep up her cheeks at the "beautiful" comment and took the flower. "T-thank you," she stammered and began to dig in her pocket for money.

"No charge," the woman said before returning to sorting her flowers.

Riza clasped the flower in her hand and dashed down the road towards the cemetery. Hopefully, Roy wouldn't wander away from there anytime soon.

* * *

"Sir, perhaps we should return home," Riza suggested quietly as she gazed down at the man as he hunched over in front of Maes grave. His hand lifelessly reached out, hanging onto the gravestone as if he were actually clutching on to the late Brigadier General's sleeve. 

Roy refused to move and gave Riza no signal that he had heard her. The two of them remained motionless as the sun began to gradually sink below the horizon. "Do you…think if I had realized what was going on sooner…" Roy trailed off, his grip on the gravestone tightening slightly.

Riza took another step forward. "Sir?" she asked softly. She knelt down beside the man and put a hand on his knee. She could sense a slight trembling in his body.

Finally, he looked up at the woman. "Do you think he'd still be alive?" he asked with a bleak smile.

The question shouldn't have surprised the lieutenant; Roy had asked her that question many times, but the look on his face was something she hadn't seen before. There was a look of desperation in his eyes, as if begging her to tell him what he wanted to hear. However, this time, it wasn't so he could find fleeting relief in knowing that at least one person didn't blame him, it was his last resort, a frenetic attempt to rid himself of his culpability forever. He had found another person to blame and he wanted an excuse to throw his guilt onto them.

Riza gave her former commanding officer a stern look. "Tell me what you'll accomplish by this, Roy."

Roy felt a deep pain in his heart at the sound of her saying his name; it always hurt when he remembered that she had a maturity that far surpassed his own. She'd always call him by his name when she was going to admonish him. He may have held a higher rank in the military, but he would never pass her in the ranks when it came to wisdom. She could read him like a book and instantaneously caught on to the intentions of his question.

"Sir, in all due respect, you need to move on. That's the only way you can let go of your guilt without pushing it on someone else."

Roy scowled and turned away. "What if I want to push it on someone else?"

Riza grabbed Roy's nose roughly and forced him to look at her. "Don't you dare say that," she reprimanded. "What would Maes think if he could hear you say that?"

Roy blushed and looked away, feeling ashamed. "Geez, you're rough, Lieutenant."

Riza released the man and held the carnation out to him. "Here, take this," she stated. "I'd hate to see it go to waste."

Roy took the carnation with a confused expression. "What is this for?"

Riza shrugged as she got to her feet, looking down at Maes gravestone with an unreadable appearance. "According to historical documents, a white carnation is supposed to represent pure love."

Roy stood up as well, blushing deeply. "Is that so?"

"But I don't believe in superstitions like that."

'Ouch,' Roy thought to himself. 'You really are rough on me, Lieutenant.'

Riza caught sight of Roy's sudden expression of dejection. "What's wrong, sir?"

Roy looked up sullenly at the woman. "Well, it's just-"

_Grrrrrrrrrrroooooooowwwwwwlllll…_

Roy suddenly stopped as his stomach loudly expressed its famine.

Riza laughed slightly and smiled. "Perhaps we should go back and make dinner."

Without waiting for an answer from the former General, she took the man's hand and began walking back to their house.

"How did you know where to find me?" Roy asked Riza quietly as the two strolled through the city streets.

"The woman you bought flowers from told me. You should thank her for that carnation," Riza responded.

Roy looked down at the flower held almost half-heartedly in his grip. _According to historical documents, a white carnation is supposed to represent pure love. _Why had she said something like that? Had she done it to punish him for running off on her? Hawkeye could be so cruel sometimes. "Who's taking care of the house?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the lovely flower.

"I called Havoc to come over and watch Black Hayate. He brought Breda, Falman, and Fuery with him."

Mustang suddenly froze in his tracks. "You mean to tell me, you left them _alone _at the house?"

Riza looked up curiously. "Yes, is that a problem?"

Roy contemplated dashing back to the house to make sure his comrades hadn't somehow destroyed it. However, he realized that doing so would be a worthless effort and he'd have to deal with whatever he would be faced with.

"Don't worry, I gave the matches to Falman," Riza assured the man, as if reading his thoughts.

Roy let out a relieved sigh knowing that his home was a little bit safer. Falman was unwavering and virtually the poster child for safety. He'd make sure the other men behaved themselves…hopefully.

Beside him, the blond woman softly laughed and he felt her hand tenderly squeeze his. "You shouldn't worry so much, sir," she insisted. "You have more anxiety now that you did when you were a General."

Roy smiled embarrassedly. "Sorry…"

Riza gave the man an inquisitive look as the streetlights slowly turned on, basking Roy's face in a soft glow. She could see the lines on his face from stress and dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. She realized how hard it must be for him, being in control of military actions for so long, and then suddenly losing that control…Riza imagined she would be stressed as well.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to bite her tongue as Roy slowly descended deeper and deeper into a pit of frustration and fretfulness. Day after day, she could see his resolve dissipating as he lost sleep and hope in whatever goal it was that he was formulating in his mind. She had seen traces of such an expression in his eyes the minute Archer had reinstated Kimbley back into the military. After that, it was nothing but an uphill struggle for the man, one that the Lieutenant knew she couldn't help him with. She could see it getting steadily worse as more and more evidence uncovered the Fuhrer as a Homunculus.

Not to mention the incident with the Fuhrer's son…

Riza wanted nothing more than to grab the man by the shoulders and tell him that it was okay to let go, that it was okay to cry and scream and yell, whatever he needed to do to release whatever aggravation it was that kept building up behind his dark eyes. However, she knew she couldn't. Partly because she knew that Roy would only isolate himself more from the world and from the lieutenant, feeling that he was being a encumbrance to her. And also…

Because she was scared of what he'd say. She was scared of the horrors that he was keeping quiet, scared of exactly how deep into depression he had fallen, scared that she might find herself beleaguered and unable to help the man. All she could do for now was just…wait.

Roy noticed Riza's gaze upon him, her eyes locked firmly upon his own. He turned to her and stared back. "Is something the matter?"

Riza promptly realized she was staring and turned away, fixing her eyes on the road before them. "No, sir, not at all."

"If you say so," Roy said, accompanied by another loud growl from his stomach.

The two walked in silence after that, both absorbed in their own musings of each other's behavior.

Finally, Roy could see their home in the distance and felt a weight of worry lift from his shoulders when he saw it still standing and unharmed. Perhaps he had underestimated his comrades…

However, that thought quickly left his mind when he heard various crashing sounds as they drew closer to the house.

Cursing under his breath, Roy dashed towards the house and Riza followed close behind. The two both burst through the front door and heard another crash sound from the kitchen, followed by a yelp and Black Hayate barking.

Roy rushed to the kitchen and came to a screeching halt.

Indeed, leaving the house in the care of Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman had been a bad idea. All four of the men were clad in aprons, where they had gotten them, Roy didn't know. Breda sat on top of the counter, trying his hardest to get away from Black Hayate, who was barking at him playfully from the floor. Falman was brandishing a wooden spoon, yelling at Breda to calm down to no avail. Fuery looked on the verge of tears and Havoc was sitting at the kitchen table, absorbed in a cookbook, seemingly oblivious to the commotion going on behind him.

Roy was about to reprimand the men when he was suddenly cut off.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Riza shouted from Roy's side.

The four men suddenly froze and turned to the woman.

"Breda, get off that counter. Fuery, take the dog out back and put him on his chain. Falman, start the stove and oven this instant. Havoc, get out the food from the fridge and set it on the cutting board." No one seemed to move, still shocked at Riza's authoritative overload. "MOVE!" Riza yelled and the men began to busy themselves as they had been ordered.

Riza strode forward and snatched Breda's apron. "The least you could do now is set the table," she stated. She put the apron on, pushed her sleeves up, and began cutting up vegetables.

After a few moments, Roy felt that it was safe enough to approach the woman. "Do you want my help?" he asked as she began to add vegetables to a pot of beef stew.

Riza took a carrot and began to chop it up. "Do you think you can make a decent salad?"

Roy took the head of lettuce sitting next to stalks of celery with a smile. "I can try." He froze as Riza suddenly turned to him and reached up, lightly touching the patch over his eye.

Her expression was unreadable, but a slight air of unhappiness hovered in her red irises. "You know…it's okay," she told him softly.

"What do you mean?" he questioned.

Riza continued to gaze at him for a few moments before turning away and resumed chopping the vegetables. "It's nothing."

Roy's gaze dropped to the scar on her forearm, the mar contrasting with her unblemished, creamy skin.

_It's okay…_

Maybe…maybe it was okay.

The man smiled slightly before he returned to making the salad for dinner.

* * *

"_You know your father loves you, right?" the woman said as she straightened the little boy's lapels. "He just wants the best for you."_

_The small boy sniffled, his tiny hands wiping tears off his cheeks. "But…but he won't even play with me anymore. All he lets me do is dress up for these parties or stay and watch him in the lab."_

_"Sweetheart, he just wants you to grow up in a proper environment. He's teaching you very important values, about socializing and about alchemy." The woman gave her son an encouraging smile. _

_"He never has time for me anymore!" the boy insisted. _

_His mother gave him an unsympathetic look. "Your father is an important person," she said firmly. "And you'll be an important person as well because you're far too good for the life of a lower class bottom feeder. You come for a prestigious family, so you'd better start acting like it."_

_"But, Mother-"_

_The woman slapped her son gently on his cheek and he swiftly stopped his crying. "Stop your sniveling. This is an important engagement your father has arranged tonight and you're far too old to spoil it with a temper tantrum."_

_The boy stood there, sniffling noisily, his shoulders jumping with every sob. After a few moments, his mother's compassionate smile returned. "Now, why don't you make yourself look nice so you can go greet your father?" she suggested sweetly._

_The young boy finally managed to calm himself before standing up straight as his mother had taught him and allowed her to fix his hair. _

_She led him by his hand to the ballroom of their home where a large party was already in progress. It wasn't uncommon for such gatherings to occur at their abode since his father was always being pressed by various associates to hold them. _

_"There he is," his mother said as she leaned down next to him, pointing past the orchestra that was currently playing a lilting waltz, gesturing towards a man surrounded by various men in suits and tuxedos. "Go and talk to him."_

_She gave him a gentle push and the boy nervously stepped out onto the marble floor. "D…daddy?" he called gently, hoping his father would notice him. He didn't._

_He began to walk towards him who was conversing with his friends and called out once he got closer. This time is father turned to him and greeted his son with a smile and a wave. The boy smiled brightly and rushed over to his dad._

_"Daddy! Daddy!" the boy exclaimed hugging his father's leg tightly._

_"Now now," his father chided gently before picking his son up in his arms. "You know you're not supposed to run in your formal clothes. Your mother gets upset."_

_"My, your son has grown," one of the men around commented. "He's certainly a chip off the old block."_

_"I think he looks more like his mother," the boy's father stated with a smile. _

_"He does not," came a voice at the boy's side. "He has your hair, darling."_

_The boy turned to see his mother at his fathers arm, her rich, red-painted lips curved upwards into a beautiful smile. _

_His father put him down on the floor and told him to go play with the other children before taking his wife in his arms and kissing her gently. _

_He watched the two for a moment before turning and walking off._

_"I'm growing tired of him," he suddenly heard his mother say. "He still behaves like a baby. Whining that you don't play with him."_

_"Love, I hate it when you talk like this," the father responded. "He's our son."_

_"That means nothing. He's simply a wretched human. Nothing more. I'm not required to love him even though you think otherwise."_

_"Dante…"_

_"Hohenheim, he's just a child. Son or not, he is our heir and he is now unnecessary. I'll play the caring mother only as long as that wretched creature is still breathing."_

Envy shot up in bed with a gasp, his hands clenched tightly into fists, his nails digging into his palms. The dream flooded quickly back into his consciousness and he clutched his hair tightly, breathing heavily.

"Shut up," he hissed at the voices rushing around in his mind. "These aren't my memories. He's not my father. He's just a useless bastard." His father had been the one to abandon him…yet his mother was the one who saved him in the end. Humans were such pathetic creations…

_You know your father loves you, right?_

"Shut up!" Envy shouted, his hands pulling at his hair, his body writhing violently as he tried to rid his head of these false memories. "That's not me! That was never me!"

Hands suddenly gripped his wrists and the homunculus quickly looked up. Ed was staring at him from the end of the bed, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and confusion. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked, gently releasing the other boy's wrists.

Envy felt his breathing begin to slow and gradually released the grip on his hair. He slowly examined Ed's features, eyes darting quickly over his face. Golden eyes and golden hair, angular face, and a look of sadness in his gaze that had never seemed to dissolve during the course of his life.

Envy sighed and looked away. "Nothing, just…a nightmare," he said lamely.

Ed grinned. "I didn't know a homunculus could dream."

"Well, they can, Ed, so shut up," Envy snapped at his lover as he threw the covers off and stepped out of bed.

"Geez, you're grouchy this morning," Ed commented as the homunculus stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Anything I can do to make you a little more agreeable?" He slid his arms around Envy's waist and hugged him closely.

Envy could always tell when Ed was making a joke. The alchemist was never extremely open with his affection. Neither of them was. Both preferred subtle acts of love and loyalty to the hugs and kisses that most couples shared. "Very funny, Ed," Envy commented before pushing the boy off him. "There is one thing you could do though."

"What's that?"

"Are you going home or not?"

Ed was silent and Envy turned to see what he was doing. The boy was staring at the bed with a look of sad fear. "What home?"

A spark of anger ignited inside the homunculus. "Your home in Resembool, moron," Envy replied sarcastically.

"I have no home to go back to. I'm dead to this world, remember?"

"Bastard."

Ed looked up furiously. "What was that?" he snapped, his hair seeming to bristle with indignation.

Envy gave his lover a smug grin. "I called you a bastard," he repeated. "You haven't changed a bit, chibi-san. You may have grown taller, but you haven't gotten any more mature. Still running from your guilt like a child."

Ed's eyes filled with rage and his hands balled up at his sides. "Don't call me chibi, and I'm not a child!" he bit out.

"Then stop acting like one, chibi-san," Envy responded with a laugh. "We're not playing pretend anymore."

"Why the hell do you care anyway?!" Ed yelled.

Envy's face took on a cool, venomous look of hatred as his gazed locked onto Ed. That single look made Ed go silent, the room suddenly filling with a fearful aura.

"Why?" Envy began in an ominous whisper. "Perhaps it's because of all your idiotic nonsense about not having a home, because you do."

"I don't," Ed insisted.

"Shut up," Envy grated out, frightening Ed into silence. "Don't you dare talk until I'm finished with you. You act as if every little thing you do is noble and for everyone else's benefit. It's sickening. You go on as if you're dead to the world that you're living in. That's just as bad as running from your problems. Like it or not, you're a part of this world whether or not you were meant to be a part of it. You have a home and a fucking family. Do you know how many people don't even have that?" He began to slowly stalk towards Edward who was beginning to tremble, like a carnivore hunting it's prey. Envy knew just what buttons to push to scare his lover. After so much time together, it grew to be almost too easy. "Or maybe it's because of the fact that you wallow around in your own sorrow, wishing and praying for it to end, and you refuse to take the one option that will allow you to end it. Just as you did when you were still hunting for the stone, you pushed all those you loved away. So now you decide that since it's convenient, you'll just do it once again." He was less than a foot from his lover now and Ed had made no move to run, but he could tell that resolve was quickly dissipating. "So, just how long until you start pushing me away, hmm?" Now Ed was slowly backing into the wall behind him. That idiot; he was trapping himself. "Tell me, Ed, when do you plan on doing the same to me?" Still the boy refused to answer, his limbs still shaking and trembling, fearful eyes gazing up at him.

Envy's palms slammed against the wall on either side of Edward's head, causing the alchemist to jump. "Answer me," he responded calmly.

"I…I d-don't plan o-on-"

Envy leaned closer to Ed's face and he could feel the hot puffs of breath that poured over onto his cheeks. "Answer me, Ed…"

Ed's eyes continued to stare into Envy's and he answered firmly, "I don't plan to…"

Envy looked at the small boy for a moment before closing the gap between the two and kissing Ed strongly on the mouth, pressing himself to him. The alchemist slowly wrapped his arms around his lover, which caused Envy's heart to skip a beat as light fingertips drifted up his spine, and the two slid down the wall and to the floor, their lips never losing contact.

* * *

Wrath gradually awoke to the sound of mellifluous singing and warm sunlight on his face. It was a fresh experience for him, waking up surrounded by soft sheets, a gentle voice, and the smell of a delicious breakfast. After he had run away from the Rockbell house, he had become accustomed to awakening to the feeling of cold dirt beneath him and the smell of clammy, grimy clothing. He slowly sat up, afraid to move too quickly. If all of this were a dream, he didn't want it to suddenly disappear. 

The boy unexpectedly winced as he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. All of a sudden, he recalled last night's events. He was back in the Rockbell house and in the care of Winry, no less. He looked over to see that the young woman had replaced the bandages, but still had yet to remove the bullet from his skin. It still hurt, but he found some solace in the fact that it didn't hurt as badly as it did yesterday. The scrumptious and enchanting smell of food was far too tempting for Wrath to resist any longer. Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and carefully walked to the bedroom door, his rusted automail creaking noisily along the way.

As Wrath wandered into the hallway, he could hear voices conversing in the kitchen at the end, although he couldn't see anyone in view at the end of the hallway.

"Granny, why wouldn't you let me go out and shop for food this morning?" came a very distinct voice that Wrath recognized as Winry's.

Wrath heard a moment of silence before he heard another voice speak, this one belonging to the elderly woman who lived in the Rockbell house. "I don't trust the men down there. Ever since that Derrick man started causing trouble, it's just not safe for a young girl like you to go down to the market by themselves."

When Wrath finally reached the end of the hallway, he peeked into the kitchen to see Winry slam a pan of scrambled eggs down onto the stove with a loud _clang _and turn the burner off with a violent turn of her wrist. "I can take care of myself, Granny!" she exclaimed before turning to the old woman who sat at the kitchen table, smoking a pipe. Winry's blue eyes flared with a defensive and fervent spark, her long blond hair practically prickling at the insinuation that she couldn't handle herself.

The older woman quietly exhaled a puff of smoke and turned to look at the young girl. "Winry, don't make a scene in front of our guest."

Winry suddenly lost her argumentative edge and her expression became one of embarrassed curiosity. She turned towards the hall with a blink and Wrath blushed when her eyes landed on him, discomfited that he had been caught eavesdropping.

She continued to stare at him for a moment and a surge of terror rose up in Wrath's chest. He remembered the last time he had been punished for being disobedient.

_The stone…he needed it now. Mommy was going to die if he couldn't get it. _

_Wrath raced down the hallway, his severely burned body stinging with intense pains as he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He burst through the door and was met with Envy and Dante, who gave him a look of surprised disgust. He lunged towards the woman, panic beginning to consume him. _

_"Where is he?!" the boy shouted, running into Envy, grabbing him by the shoulders. _

_Dante looked at Wrath with a mixture of puzzlement and impatience. "What now?"_

_Wrath tried to get past Envy, but the homunculus' grip was strong. "Tell me please!"_

_"Get off me!" Envy shouted, trying to push the boy away._

_But Wrath couldn't give up; his Mommy was depending on him! "I need the Philosopher's Stone!"_

_Dante turned her gaze to Envy. "What's he doing here? I clearly told you I wanted Wrath to keep an eye on Edward."_

_Wrath raised his voice, determined not to be ignored. "I need it, I need it now! Please!"_

_Envy grinned malevolently. "It's not my fault he can't follow orders!"_

_Envy's hands were gripping Wrath's raw skin forcefully, sending burning shocks of pain through his arms and shoulders and he felt more hot tears stream down his face. "Please, Master, I need the stone now!"_

_Dante smiled, but her smile held no conviviality, just a chilling promise of pain and suffering. "Wrath, if you can't behave properly, you'll have to remain a Homunculus."_

_No, he wouldn't be forced into giving up with threats. He didn't care if he were sentenced to remain this way. He had to save her! "There's no time! My Mommy's gonna die!"_

_Dante's face took on an expression of perplexity. "Mommy?"_

_Envy scoffed. "I don't know," he said, vituperatively tossing Wrath aside. "I think he's talking about Sloth."_

_Wrath lay on the cold sandstone floor, panting heavily, his breaths coming in short, shuddering gasps. He looked up to see Dante's cold eyes locked on him. "Don't be ridiculous, Sloth isn't your mother. Homunculi do not have mothers. Understood?"_

_No, he didn't understand! She was his mother! She was all he had! Wrath summoned up what was left of his strength and launched himself at Dante, only to have Envy's arm catch him once again, knocking some of the air out of him. "Save her! Please! I need her!"_

_Dante's expression did not grow any softer. In fact, she looked enraged. "You're not a human, Wrath, stop acting like one."_

_"Mommy!" Wrath exclaimed, desperation setting in. "Mommy, mommy, mommy!"_

_Dante sighed in exasperation. "Envy."_

_Wrath cried out as Envy tossed him across the room. The pain in his body was growing so immense, that he thought he'd vomit. However, he had to ignore it; he had more important things to worry about. Quickly, he got to his feet, dashing towards the woman once again. "Please!"_

_Instead, his gut met Envy's foot and he was thrown brutally against the room's large double doors. Limply, he sank to the floor, and he began to transmute the floor into some sort of weapon, something that he could use to coerce the woman to give him what he needed. However, Envy was one step ahead of him and he screamed when the other Homunculus' foot stepped heavily on his wrist, deftly snapping it. _

_"Don't even think about it," he warned with a grin. "Now come here!" _

Wrath began to tremble, a soft whimper rising in his throat. He didn't want to get in trouble. He didn't want Winry to hurt him; he didn't want her to take her anger and frustration out on him.

"Oh! Wrath, you're awake! I didn't know!" Winry said cheerfully, but the words were lost on Wrath's ears as he began to back away from the kitchen. Winry finally noticed and gave Wrath a look of concern. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"No!" Wrath exclaimed, backing up even further. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Please, don't hurt me!"

Winry began to step forwards, her hand reaching out towards the boy. "Hey, calm down," she urged. "It's alright. No one's going to hurt you."

Wrath watched Winry's hand inching towards him, his eyes filled with terror. Her soft, delicate hand morphed into Envy's cold, callused, gloved fist and he let out a loud sob before turning and running back to his room, locking the door behind him.

Winry stared at the empty spot that Wrath was moments before, and shortly after she heard a door slamming and the clicking of a lock. She turned to her grandmother, her forehead crinkled in worried bemusement. "Granny…did I do something wrong?"

Pinako sat at the table, her pipe in hand, and a frown on her face. "You have to go slowly with that boy, Winry. I think he's had a tough time. Just be gentle with him. Give him a little time, and don't push."

Winry sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Al had been the same way for a while after returning in his brand-new body. She remembered him clinging to her, asking her where he was, why she looked so different, where Ed had gone to, crying his eyes out in terrified bewilderment. Then, the next moment, he didn't want anyone to talk to him. All he would do was sit alone in his room, transmuting dolls out of whatever materials he could scrape up. Winry could recall one of the few times she had been able to peek into his room when he was inside of it.

_He had to be asleep now right? It was nearly three in the morning. Winry stood before Al's bedroom door, her hand hovering above the door, hesitating to knock. _

_Should she bother him any more? After all, more could be going on than Winry realized. Perhaps she should leave him alone. _

_No, she'd left him alone long enough. She took a deep breath before gently knocking on the door. "Al? Are you awake?"_

_Winry waited a moment and heard no answer. She didn't even hear the sound of footsteps against the wood floor. Diffidently, she turned the doorknob; it was unlocked. Perhaps a peek in wouldn't hurt. _

_Slowly, the young woman opened the door, breathing a sigh of relief when it didn't creak loudly. She quietly stuck her head inside and looked around the room, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. _

_"Oh…Al…"she sighed when she caught sight of the dolls lying all over the floor._

_They were shaped just like Ed, clad in black clothes and a red jacket. The dolls had long golden hair, pulled back into a braid and from the right pocket, the chain of his pocket watch was shining in the silvery moonlight._

_Winry stepped into the room and picked up one of the numerous dolls on the floor. She fingered the doll and felt that the right arm and left leg were heavier than the other limbs. She pulled the sleeve of the red jacket back and her fingertips met with cold metal. The arm and leg were actually made of metal. With a frown, she carefully walked over to the bed, where she could see Al, curled up, the blankets pulled up to his chin, his hair mussed up and falling in front of his eyes. She gently sat down on the bed beside the boy, tears welling up in her eyes. The young boy did remember his brother; he had more memories than he knew._

Winry stared out the window in the kitchen, gazing at the rolling hills that lay outside. Yes, that's all Wrath needed. Just a little time. After all, that is what she had given Alphonse, and he was getting better by the day.

_Knock knock!_

Winry looked towards the front door as a gentle knocking sounded. She wasn't expecting anybody. "Granny, did you invite someone over or have any appointments?"

Pinako looked up curiously. "Not that I know of."

Winry walked over to the door. "Well, who could it be?" Filled with inquisitiveness, she opened up the door and was surprised to see two men standing on her doorstep. Both had very blond heads and they looked as if they were brothers. One was quite tall, the other short and the smaller one seemed to be hiding behind his brothers leg.

"Yes, hello, can I help you?" Winry inquired.

"Yes, my name is Russell Tringham and his is my brother Fletcher," the older brother answered. His face was plastered with an expression of sadness, but a glimmer of hope dimly shone in his amethyst colored eyes.

Winry gasped. "Russell Tringham?" The name resounded with familiarity in her mind. That same name had popped up all over Ed's letters to her.

_Al and I have just left Xenotime. We met two brothers there, Russell and Fletcher Tringham. They were pretty good alchemists, but Russell's got such a short temper. He's unbearable. In addition, he's a year younger than me, but likes to lord his excessive height over me…_

_Dear Winry, we haven't heard much from the Tringham's in awhile. Roy transferred a few of their letters to us, but there wasn't much use in them. I wish he wouldn't write me unless he had some useful information…_

Finally, here was the infamous Russell Tringham standing on her doorstep. But what was he here for?

Russell nodded, smiling sadly. "Yes, I'm looking for Edward Elric and I was told I could find him here."


End file.
